Missed By That Much
by SherlockedFilmMaker
Summary: Sherlock has finally destroyed Moriarty s web of criminals, or at least and thinks so. He s ready to come back to John s life, but there is a minor setback, John seems like he already moved on and it s even sharing his new flat with his girlfriend Mary. Sherlock s plans will not go as he wanted, but he can t help wanting to be part of John s life again.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

Sorry I`m late, I tried

Sherlock wasn`t sure, but he was fairly convinced that what he was feeling could be considered as a broken heart. He was, after all, new with sentiment and all of which came with it. He had lived a happy life without any sentiment before; _yes I think you could denominate it happy…at least it wasn`t unhappy. _Why was it that after meeting John everything changed? He understood sentiment, at least the chemistry part, so why couldn't he stop his mind from constantly flooding his head with wonders and hopes about John, even in the lowest moments of his chase he would find himself thinking about those simple, but meaningful moments on Baker Street. Those memories were actually the strongest fuel Sherlock found in order to keep going, because he was a strong man, but even the greatest man, in situations of despair, longed for home, and home was John. He couldn`t blame the man from moving on; wasn`t that what he wanted to…to see John finally happy _and safe_? That were the main reasons he did what he did, why he faked his death and disappeared from John`s life, that`s why he had dedicated the last 3 years to chase down Moriarty`s web of criminals, isn't?

But still hurt. Sherlock now understood that he wanted John to be happy, but he wanted the army doctor to be happy with him, not with someone else, especially not with that women John was living with now. It was selfish, he knew that, but it`s not like if he could control it. He couldn`t even totally grasp the diversity of feelings he was having at that moment. _So this`s a bit of anger and is that jealousy? How does people deal with all of this! It`s so exhausting! _Sherlock founded it distracting and, being only fair, painful.

Mycroft didn`t tell him; not in one of the several conversations had Mycroft even slightly commented him that John was in a serious relationship, _very _serious. For the looks of it Sherlock deduced they have been going out for moths, if not years, and were now living together. He knew John, so he was sure that the relationship meant a lot because he wouldn`t take lightly the decision of moving in with someone he was going out. However, Sherlock couldn`t tell how serious the relationship really was: are they just trying the waters to see how it goes? Or are they in a let`s-have-a-puppy-and-be-very-committed stage? He couldn`t deduce all of that from where he was standing, not form the street in front of John`s new flat…no, _John`s and Mary`s flat._

It was starting to rain, _what a cliché, really. _He couldn`t help to laugh about the irony of finding himself in the classic romantic movie`s scenario in which on of the characters finds out the person he wants it`s already taken and happy with someone else, _and I`m not even into telly. _Water drops were falling down from Sherlock`s soaked hair, the only refuge he found near by was a tree, but still he was getting really wet. His curls were a bit of a mess sticked to his forehead and he knew that if he didn`t go to a dryer place he would probably catch a cold. Nonetheless, Sherlock couldn`t find strength enough to move; his brain was telling him he had to go because it was almost masoquism to stand there and be just a mere whiteness of the happy life John was having without him; but somehow the signal from his brain got lost somewhere between his head and his feet, because he didn't move an inch.

He had a plan before, when he was unaware of the actual situation John was in. He planned to go into John`s new flat and surprise him; _hi John, I`m back, as you can obviously observe I`m not dead. _It`s not the best line to greet after so long without seeing each other, but it would definitely break the ice of such awkward encounter_. _Sherlock wasn`t sure what he should expect, a punch maybe, or a very long stare, he had pictured a thousand possible developments, but never the one that he was witnessing: a new John with a new girlfriend in his new place, that was a surprise. And it took a lot to impress Sherlock Holmes, but he knew that if anyone could do it, it was John.

Sherlock was still deliberating weather to go or if he should face John and explain him the truth, _maybe he would understand and everything will be just as before all of this happened, maybe he`ll just leave Mary and come with me…please John, choose me. _But he knew the odds, he didn`t know if John felt the same way he did, in fact, he doubt it. He was an insufferable man, always chasing a new obsession and addicted to the thrill of it, being bored was worst than death itself. He was a very hard man to get along with, let`s not say to love, of course John wouldn`t feel the same way, it was already a mystery why the man considered Sherlock a friend; if he could trust in Mycroft`s words, John even considered Sherlock his best friend. He had never been someone`s best friend and now he was asking John more than that? There was no doubt anymore, he was going to get punched by John.

The rain didn`t seem to be having any soon end. He could feel his socks getting wet and his coat wasn`t doing much anymore to prevent his clothes from adhere to his body. Sherlock knew what he had to do; he had to let know John he was alive, he owed him at least the truth. The whole feelings part was better left aside, at least for know, but he didn`t want to prolong his already long wait to be able to talk to John again. He lifted his coat`s collar and went out from his refuge into the pouring rain.

* * *

John wasn`t sure, but he could have swear for a moment that the man standing on the street in front his flat was Sherlock. _Of course is not him, you idiot! _It wasn`t strange for him to imagine he had seen Sherlock; it wasn`t as often as before, but he could still see him form time to time, on a cab that passed in front of him, on the corner outside his job, in the café he went to grab lunch sometimes or even sulking on the couch as he used to do.

He looked at Mary, the woman, _my girlfriend,_ that was living with him. By the look on her face he could notice she knew what was going through John`s mind. John had met Mary seven months after Sherlock`s death; at the beginning she was just another sad pair of eyes that gave John one of those pitiful looks he had gotten so use to, but with time he found in her a pillar to support him, he got use to having her close and now he was fairly sure he needed her. Mary was good, Mary made thighs less painful.

The man outside was still standing there, even when it started raining he was there looking at his window. John couldn`t perfectly distinguish the man, but he couldn`t get out of his mind the idea that he looked so much like Sherlock. He left his mind drift with crazy ideas of sharing the flat with Sherlock instead of Mary, because on those dreams Sherlock wasn't death, on those dreams he had never left John, he was right there beside John, as he should have been. Of course John couldn't let himself get all wrap up into his daydreaming, it just wasn't healthy to be fantasising with an impossible reality; or at least that`s what his therapist had said. "It`s good to reminisce and dream, John, but don't forget that we need you in here too, your reality and life needs you wide awake." So he had decided to do his best, but he was only human, he would still think and wonder about Sherlock a lot, but mainly when he was alone, that was pretty often. In those alone moments his "reality and life" could wait.

John switched his look from the man outside to Mary. She was a pretty woman; to be absolutely honest, he wasn`t sure why she was sticking with him. Why did she stayed after finding out about the nightmares that interrupted most of John`s nights, why was she settling with only the rests of a man? Because John knew he wasn`t the same than before, so why had Mary dedicated 2 years of her life to be with John? was she expecting to repair him? Maybe she thought that with time she`d make John better, like if nothing happened, like if Sherlock never died. John thought that it was time to tell Mary that it was better for her to give up; there are some things that leave a scar where no one can see and those are the ones that hurt the most and also the ones that don`t go away. He knew he had to tell Mary that this was all she was going to get if she stayed, but he didn`t want to loose her. _Maybe she already knows that and she decided to stay…just maybe_. John really wanted to believe that, because if she went away too, what was John going to do then, he didn`t know if he could wake up to his nightmares alone after getting used to having someone beside him every night.

Mary was reading the paper while drinking tea and eating John`s favourites biscuits, she had managed to get to know John so well in such a short period of time. Like every Saturday they would have breakfast and then go to a park or a place where they could quietly rest until they were hungry enough to have lunch near by, so they could return walking to their flat on time to catch some shows or a movie on the telly. It has been like that for a long time now, and John didn`t mind, he found that having a routine was actually good for him, that way he kept himself busy most of the time, his mind safe from wandering too much.

When John looked outside again, the man outside had left. He couldn't help trying to remember the last time he talked with Mycroft; it wasn`t that long ago really, he didn`t know why, but he heard more from the Holmes brother now than when Sherlock was living with him. He assumed Mycroft was worried John was still partly blaming him for what happened or he might think John could do something crazy, but John wasn`t that kind of man. He tried to keep some sort of social life, just enough to keep his friends calm and not to worry…that much. One night out with Greg to get a pint on a bar, another day for visit her sister that was much better after her rehab and being with Mary, of course. Mycroft would text him reminding him of things like he had to go to work, or that bread was missing from his kitchen (how did he knew that, beats John), moreover, his bank account was always froze at the same amount. He had to recognize he was a bit thankful for that; the first moths after Sherlock`s death he barely left the house, let alone go to work or do the grocery shopping. But after John decided to keep going he opened a new account so he didn`t wouldn`t use Holmes`s money. He knew Mycroft knew about the new account, and for sure Mycroft knew John was aware about it, but both of them pretended it was a secret well kept.

Knocks on his door brought John back from his thought, Mary was already halfway to the door when he realised them. When Mary opened the door John froze right in his seat, he couldn`t believe his eyes, _it can`t be, it`s just no possible_. But the tall figure in his doorstep was unmistakable, even when it was soaked wet, those piercing eyes that were staring right at him belonged to just one man.

* * *

Sherlock was in front of John and the woman that was sharing the flat without knowing what to do anymore. He wasn`t used to be speechless, but this moment was certainly a perfect one to start.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Three years, a century: the same

John was standing halfway between the chair he was seated on just seconds ago and Sherlock. Time ceased to exist or you could also say that every second seemed like an eternity; John wasn`t sure which metaphor suited the situation better, but who cared, a man that looked just like Sherlock was standing in front of him. He stared at the man once more, there were a few differences actually; he was skinnier than his Sherlock and his eyes were darker, it made him even more beautiful. Nonetheless, there was no doubt; his eyes might have changed, but his look was the same; that look that went right trough John`s heart. The man in the doorstep was _his_ Sherlock. Even though he never got to call Sherlock his own, and he realized it just too dramatically when Sherlock jumped from that rooftop so long ago. _Sherlock was never mine and will never be. _He knew the consulting detective would probably dismiss John`s sentiments like another not very relevant fact. Not out of evil, of course, but because he wasn't sure Sherlock saw anyone that way. As far as John was concerned, he was alone in this infatuation, as he was sure Sherlock would call it.

_When did I stand up? _He hadn`t realized he had been standing all that time until his knee begun bothering him; because another thing that changed after Sherlock`s death was that he could`t find how to distract himself enough not to feel the pain in his dammed leg. He secretly preferred it that way; at least at the beginning, when he had something to focus his mind different from the pain Sherlock`s empty spaces caused him.John knew he had to say something; Sherlock was waiting for any kind of response.

But John was having a hard time silencing the million questions he had on his head. He could hear each one of his heartbeats on his chest and feel his blood pumping in his head.

"Sh-Sherlock?" It felt a bit strange saying his name out loud. He repeated that name in his mind constantly, but he hardly said out loud anymore. It just made it a bit easier to keep it to himself.

"Hello John." Sherlock was still on the doorstep of the flat. He entered it and took a quick look around, trying to absorb all the information he could to start feeling the gaps of the three years he missed of John`s life; of course this wouldn't be enough, but it was a start. _Not much furniture, just enough to have a confortable house. Boxes with dust on them, they had been living here for a while even though they still have to unpack some of their things. Mostly pictures of the woman, actually all but two are hers. _One of the photographs portrayed John with her sister_, so things are better between them, obviously_. The other one was not really a picture, it was a newspaper article framed. Sherlock could only read the head title: "Sherlock Holmes seems to break another case, even from the grave. Moriarty might be real after all." Beneath those words there was Sherlock`s photo standing next to John; before he jumped, before his life became lonely and cold nights in warehouses following the trace of criminals, before he had to give up having the army doctor by his side.

Seeing that John wasn't saying anything else Sherlock thought it would be better for him to start the conversation, because hopefully there was going to be a conversation between them.

Sherlock noticed the flinch on John`s face while he tried to lean his weight to the other leg.

"I see your leg is bothering you again."

"Observant as always." John reply left Sherlock without much to hang to. He thought he could perceive resentment on his tome. He couldn`t blame him, he was fighting against guilt sentiments himself, so it was only normal to expect that from John; nonetheless it took away a big part of the hope Sherlock had about finishing the conversation in good terms.

"Mr. Holmes?..Sherlock Holmes? That`s not possible. How? I mean it`s just not possible" Mary`s words reminded Sherlock she was in the room. He only addressed a quick look at her and then his eyes locked with John`s.

"John look.." Sherlock tried to continue.

"Mary, I know we were suppose to go out in a bit but I guess you`ll understand if I have to attend some business first." John interrupted Sherlock.

_Business? _The use of that word made Sherlock feel uncomfortable, he could feel his confidence drifting away by the second.

Mary and John were sharing a long look. "We made the reservations anyway. I`ll call you to meet later."

"Are you sure, John? I could sta-"

"Yes, I`m sure."

It took less than half a minute for Mary to gather her purse and jacket to leave the flat. The two men were alone now. After so what seemed a lifetime, Sherlock and John were looking at each other with their hearts about to explode and a thousand things to say.

Sherlock gave a tempting step, John didn`t move.

"John, I cant begin to explain…I`m here and."

"Why?"

It was the first word that John addressed Sherlock, besides calling his name just few moments before.

"Why what? exactly."

"Why? Just why. I think it`s a pretty simple question. Don`t I deserve at least an explanation?" John was loosing his temper. He was usually a calm person, and the soldier in him knew that moments of extreme sentiment made people behave abnormally, so he had to control himself. He was trying very hard to be happy. Of course he was happy; Sherlock Holmes was standing before him! Alive for Christ Sake, very alive! But it was hard to express those feeling when betray and anger were also coming to the surface after realizing Sherlock had being alive all this time and he had lied to him for three years. After Sherlock jumped he thought he would never see the man`s face again or those eyes that shifted color every time he looked at them, but John was rambling in his thought now.

Sherlock was in front of him and he had a lot of explanation to do before John gave in to his intentions and could hug him very tight in his arms; to never let him go again.

"It was the only way, it hasn`t been easy for me either. You got to keep your day a day life, I gave up everything…You don't know how hard it is to wake up alone everyday, not that I minded being alone before, but-" Sherlock thought that maybe putting things into perspective will make the situation easier to handle an maybe a bit smaller.

"Easy? I don't know how hard it is?" John was certainly loosing it now. How could Sherlock said that any about the last 3 years had being easy or that he wasn't just as alone as he. To be fair, John wasn't thinking totally straight; there were many feelings inside him. He didn't know a person could feel that range of sentiments. John could feel his body shaking a bit and his face going red, but he didn`t move his look one inch.

"Oh, come on, John. I`m just saying that it shouldn't had been THAT hard, not really." Sherlock didn't know why he was saying that. If John suffered from the separation just half of what he suffered, he knew that surely he had some bad times. But some how Sherlock wanted to pretend he hadn`t hurt the army doctor that much. He wanted John to prove Sherlock wasn`t responsible for his eyes looking so tired, or his leg malfunctioning again, He hated the idea of being the one to blame for John`s pain. However, the look in John`s face was of disbelief. "I`m just saying tha-"

"Don't dare saying again it wasn`t hard."

"But I`m…maybe I should leave, you seem a bit mmm indispose."

_What! Does he actually think he can abandon me again? _

Sherlock was turning round, maybe if he left for just a minute he could take some fresh air and put order into his thought. Obviously he was only upsetting John and, from his deduction, he could presume that his words were the ones causing the problem, so Sherlock had to rearrange his strategy.

"Shit, Sherl-. You`re not.." _There`s no fucking way I`ll let this happen again. _It occurred John thatmaybe all of this was just another dream; he very often imagined a life in which Sherlock was still with him. But now that he thought it better, this couldn't be a dream; in his dreams Sherlock never left again, his dreams had a really different course of events actually.

At the calling of his name, or half his name to be more precise, Sherlock turned again to face John. The consulting detective hadn`t realized John moved and he was walking, more like jogging, towards him. Sherlock didn`t have time to move and the punch in his face took him completely by surprise. Once on the floor he could see John walking over his steps over and over, from the window to Sherlock`s and back again. His head was pounding; he touched his face to see if he was bleeding, a warm thread of blood was coming out of his mouth, but nothing else. He had acquired a lot more experience and information about defense and attacks and he knew John`s punch was made strategically not to seriously damage any part of his face, just like that one time long ago; to Sherlock it seemed like centuries ago.

As strange as it may seem that punch brought new hope into Sherlock, along with memories of old times.

Sherlock was holding his weight with one hand and with the other cleaning the blood that was spilling form his lips.

John felt bad about what he did. He certainly didn't want to give Sherlock any reasons to separate himself from him, and John was fairly sure that hitting people was never seen as a symbol of _stay with me_, even when that was what John actually meant. Now that he was still and looking at Sherlock he could notice that the man was grinning. When Sherlock looked up, John knew his face expressed all the confusion he was feeling because Sherlock`s face went serious again while he tried to stand up.

Sherlock smoothed out his jacket.

"John.." he knew he had to say it, it was the least he owed to his best friend, maybe he only friend. "John, I`m sorry." _John, I`m sorry I was away from you so long; I`m sorry if I caused you any distress; I`m sorry I couldn't be a better friend. _So many things Sherlock knew he should say; none of them able to go out of his lips nonetheless. "I-I`m sorry." He couldn`t held John`s look any longer, he feared he might shed a tear, but he wasn't going to let that happen; John wasn't going to see him that weak, he had to be strong. He didn`t cried since he jumped from Bart`s roof, he wasn't going to start right in front of the man he most desperately wanted to.

"I can`t forgive you." Those words felt like a knife in Sherlock`s heart and like poison in John`s mouth. "Not yet."

John knew that was half a lie because he craved to touch the consulting detective and feel with his own fingers that Sherlock was real. However, he was still angry Sherlock lied to him for so long and didn`t trusted him with his secret.

Sherlock was looking at him again, but it was different, something in his eyes had changed. It was like there was not shield anymore, like he could see straight to Sherlock`s soul.

That`s what it took John to give in to his wanting and erase the space that separate the two men.

"You idiot." John spoke in almost a whisper, but the almost non-existent distance between them allowed Sherlock to hear it perfectly.

John put his arms around Sherlock`s torso to embrace him in a tight hug. With his head against the man`s chest he could hear the heartbeat accelerating. John wasn`t sure what to make out of it, but it didn't matter at that moment. He was able to feel the warmth through Sherlock`s shirt, he didn't mind to get his sleeves wet because of Sherlock`s coat that was still soaked from the rain. John was a strong man, but to be fair, when your best friend comes from the death and presents himself at your door there is not a customary way to response, so John thought it was not that bad that he didn't manage to keep his defences up. He wasn't about to become a whining, crying middle age man, but a few tears rolling on his cheeks straight to Sherlock`s shirt betrayed him. John hoped Sherlock wouldn`t notice.

Sherlock was truly surprised by John`s embrace. The heat coming from his friend was very comforting, specially after realizing how cold he was form being wet because of the rain. He wasn't used to affectionate display, so the way he should proceed was a mystery for him. Sherlock decided to ignore his mind for just a moment and just listen to the screams of his body and heart telling him to hug him back. Sherlock thought that his arms fitted perfectly above John`s hips, but he got rid of the thought immediately. He noticed John`s back was arching a bit with every breath; obviously he was trying to hold his crying. It was better to say nothing; silence filled the flat. Sherlock leaned his head into John`s crack between his neck and shoulder and decided to stay there as long as John needed it.

There was no movement but the two now synchronised breathing of the men in the middle of the living rom. John calmed that he manage to control his tears and could focus only in the heat coming from the embrace and Sherlock trying to distinguish every scent that he pick from John, that unmistakable John scent that he had missed so much. It was a drug he wans`t thinking on giving up easily.

Neither of them knew that hard times were just at the next corner. Neither of them really cared.


	3. Chapter 3

Tea for three

John put a cup of tea in front of Sherlock. The consulting detective wasn`t wearing his soaked coat anymore, just his mild wet t-shirt, that made him feel a bit chilly because of the cold wind outside, but he wasn`t about to complain. A zip of tea will help.

"You still remember how I take my tea, impressive." Sherlock noticed the way John tried to hide his now bright red cheeks with his mug of tea, he would probably blame it on heat of the beverage.

"Nothing impressive…it`s just a simple cup of tea."

John`s stare was fixed somewhere out of the window, nowhere important, just anywhere but Sherlock`s eyes. Nonetheless, John could feel those shifting eyes examining him. He didn`t know what to say. So many things that crossed his mind this last 3 years; continuously telling himself that he should have said so many things that never saw the light of day, and now that he had the chance he couldn`t bring himself to speak, to say just a word. _Come on, you bloody idiot, say something! _

John took a long breath and turned his head to face Sherlock. The man in front of him seemed relaxed, like if that day was like any other day, just an average Saturday afternoon. Suddenly a thousand memories crossed John`s mind; memories from when having a cup of tea was just the starter of a day and not the ending of a very complicated situation. John`s eyes went watered again, but he wasn`t going to let one drop fall. _Sherlock, fuck, why did you have lo leave?!_

"Why did you come back after all this time? Why now?" John successfully tried to use a strong voice, just like when he was in the army and had to pretend that whatever was happening was part of the plan all along.

"Why?" Sherlock was starting to feel confused; of course, human emotions always did. Was John asking him why have him even cared to come, didn`t he wanted him there then. "I-I…"

"Have I just made Sherlock Holmes speechless?" A grin appeared on John`s face, which made Sherlock feel like a warm wave of relief wash him head to toes.

"I`m back because there is no more danger in my return." John`s face told Sherlock he didn't fully understand; how could he if John never knew that until not so long ago there was always someone chasing his tale. He didn't want to go deeper on his last whereabouts and actions. He had done some bad things, all in order to keep the people he cared for save, but did the reason really compensated for the methods and actions. Was he slowly becoming what he fought against all those past years? Was he becoming a monster or maybe he already was.

"These last 3 years my only mission was to put an end to Moriarty`s web of criminals. He might have been the mind behind it all, but he left so many projects running that it felt like he was still playing along with me…John, I`ve do-"

Sherlock`s hand moved prematurely towards John`s at the time the doctor`s phone beeping overcame Sherlock`s voice. John looked at the watch on the chimney with sudden rush. "Shit, oh crap."

"You're late for your meting with Mary" Sherlock retracted his hands back at his mug and looked down.

"Yeah…really, very late"

"Go" Sherlock admitted to himself that maybe Mary`s intrusion might have even been a good thing. Both of them will have time to think and make some decisions, even though Sherlock wasn`t sure which decisions needed to be made, he was sure John needed time to process all the new information he was receiving and probably less sentimental, he wasn't really the one to talk about that.

"Look, Sherlock, you just got here and I`m certainly not going to allow.."

"John, I still need to find a place to stay and some new clothes too.."

"Stay here."

Silence.

It wasn't as if Sherlock didn`t want to stay, he actually found himself relived about John asking him that. His pulse rose by John`s words; he hand`t forget that the flat belonged also to Mary.

"Maybe Mary won`t like the idea. I`d hate to impose."

_Is he serious? _John thought that Sherlock was trying his best not to be a bother, the problem was that Sherlock _was _a bother, it was almost physical impossible for him not to be one, but in the good sense, of course. Sherlock usually didn't care about what other people might think and that made him the genius he was, it also made him an incredible prick some times, but John realized he wouldn't want him other way.

"Come on Sherlock! You`re not imposing, I`m asking you. This`s my bloody flat too and I`m saying you can stay. The guest room is the right door from the washroom and feel free to take a shower …and oh there`s some food in the fridge and god knows you need to eat, so please don't be shy."

John didn`t want to leave the flat, he wished to stand there and give in to the need of contemplate the man who just re-entered his life. Sherlock looked up at him, still seated. Now that he gave himself a moment, he noticed that Sherlock not only needed to eat healthier, but that he also needed a lot of sleep and maybe a check out by a doctor. How was it that he hadn`t notice before? Dark circles surrounded Sherlock`s eyes that, despite the tiredness in them, still shone; his cheekbones were even more prominent in his face and his curls were longer than he had even seen them before. The man needed someone to take care of him, because it was obvious Sherlock wasn`t doing a great job at it; Sherlock Holmes needed a friend, just like old times.

"Please. I`ll be back as soon as I can. Grab whatever clothes fits you, you may not find many options but anyway…and rest; it the doctor talking right now."

Already in the cab John already missed Sherlock`s presence, he just got back and he was currently in a taxy away from him? However, he knew he had to do it, it was the right thing to do, for Mary`s sake. He was a man of his word and after all Mary had done to help him he could`t just put her away as used goods. Loyalty was a word many use to describe John Watson, and many evidence supported the statement. John had time to practice what would be the best way to talk to Mary. _So, remember my friend that was supposed to be dead and appeared at the door, well, he`ll stay with us for a while…and by the way I love him. _The speech needed a couple of changes, but the main idea stick; Sherlock was back and John wouldn`t let him go again.

The road was busy; rain always created a bit of a chaos in the crowed streets of London. He was just 10 minutes away from the restaurant Mary was waiting in.

Sebastian Moran stared at the window without paying any real attention to the outside world. His cigarette was consuming itself in his hand and the heat between his fingers reminded him where he was standing. It was usual to loose the track of his location; he had been traveling quite often and for a long time, almost three years to be more precise.

Two houses down Sebastian saw John leave his flat. He noticed Watson was trying to make a decision while going over his steps from his door and back to the main road more than one time; at the end the doctor decided to take a taxi and leave home.

He have had so many times to attack, to take John Watson`s life and cover his part of the deal. Nonetheless, everything changed the moment Jim died in that rooftop. Jim`s death wasn`t part of the plan and Sebastian couldn`t help to blame Sherlock for it.

Sebastian knew from the first time that he started working with Moriarty that Jim was no singular man. He had never met someone that had so much fun doing what he likes and being great at it as well. Jim was a true master mind, and he thought he would never meet someone that could compete against him until Jim ran into about Sherlock Holmes, the world`s only consulting detective.

They was fun, he couldn't denied that; more than once Moriarty and him played with Sherlock and his doctor as if they were puppets; they all were on Moriarty`s play, even him.

Over the last three years Sebastian dedicated himself day and night to become an invisible man. It wasn`t as hard as it could have been because, since his times working along with Jim, he was a man hard to find. But Holmes was a clever man and more than once he felt as if the detective was on his toes; nevertheless, he was a living proof that Sherlock didn`t get it always right, Jim would had been proud of him.

Sebastian seemingly petrified body didn`t part from the window, not even when the heavy drops of the resumed rain started to hit and cool his skin. This kind of weather took him back to past days, times that felt far as if they belonged from many ages ago, but at the same time like he was remembering what happened yesterday. He could still feel Jim`s touch on his shoulder or his heavy breath after a few cups of wine, Casillero Del Diablo, straight from Chile, only the best.

It was after a long time, of those three years of hiding from Holmes, that Sebastian decided that he should go back to London and wait. He was a man of patience; he could wait for his predator to become the pray right in front his eyes, only men with the special virtue of patience could wait hours besides a gun and press the trigger at the right moment so the pray becomes the victim.

How did the detective managed to come back from the dead and started chasing Moriarty`s men was a mystery he gave up to ever find out long ago. He only hoped that Holmes would go back to the one thing he couldn't renounce, John Watson. He knew about broken hearts and Sherlock was suffering of one, Holmes probably thought that this was as bad as if it would get.

"That`s only because he doesn`t know what`s coming"

Sebastian could describe the doctor`s house with his eyes closed; the pale blue color on it`s wall, along with the flowers outside the window that the women liked to look after. But finally, after long hours contemplating Watson`s threshold, the waiting paid of, Holmes was back in London.


End file.
